Page 12 of Kneel for Me
I dropped my hands from his hair, and he stood, leaning in to kiss me. When he thrust his tongue between my parted lips, I groaned at the taste of myself lingering on his tongue.
“Get dressed,” he said when he pulled back from me. “And meet me in my office. Igor is here.”
I blinked at him, slowly coming out of my cum-drunk haze. “You thought sucking my dick was more important than whatever information Igor might have for us?” The man had been on the hunt for something for days, from my understanding. While Ivan had been catering to me, his consigliere had been working all hours of the day and night to find out who’d tried to kill us and who was betraying the Jackson family.
Ivan smirked and winked at me. “Sucking your dick willalwaysbe a priority,kotik.”
With that, he slipped from the room, quietly shutting the door back behind him. I glowered at the wooden door as I tucked my softening dick back into my briefs and did up my jeans.
As soon as I got my hands on my phone, I was googling what the fuck that word meant in English. And then I was going to research fucking psychiatric hospitals becauseclearly, I was losing my fucking mind.
10
Ivan
Ipushed open the door to my office, feeling awfully fucking cheery for so early in the morning. But shit, why wouldn’t I be? I had Adrian’s thick cock down my throat, and he had been so fucking gone over me, he could barely drag air into his lungs as I swallowed around him.
I’d seen the changes happening in him over the last few days. Saw him softening toward me. Being a little more open. Every time he woke up, he would seek me out immediately just to make sure I was still right there with him. And of course, I was. Where the fuck else was I going to be? The mere thought of leaving his side while he was so out of it and so ill honestly made me feel a bit sick to my stomach, which was a change for me because I didn’t get anxious over anything. But if I wasn’t there to protect him, who would?
“You sure took a long time just to tell Adrian to meet us here,” Igor commented from where he was slouched on the couch along the far wall. He was using his pocketknife to clean beneath his fingernails.
“You know you can get a manicure, right?” I asked him as I settled in my expensive, leather desk chair. “Nothing wrong with a man getting his nails done so he doesn’t have to use a knife like a caveman.”
Igor beat his chest like a gorilla before going back to cleaning dirt from beneath his thumbnail. Leaning back in my chair, I propped my ankle on my knee and laced my fingers together over my stomach. He cast one look at my expensive slacks and grimaced.
“What?” I asked, frowning at him.
“Do you even own a pair of jeans?” he asked, sounding appalled. “Or a good pair of ass kicking boots? Your shoes are so fucking shiny, my little sister could use them as a mirror to do her makeup routine.”
I snorted. “Some of us have class,” I retorted.
He rolled his eyes. “I have class. I’ve got lots of class. We went to the same boarding school, you dimwit. And we both went to Harvard. You don’t fit in either of those places without some fucking class.”
Boarding school in America and then Harvard afterward were the reasons Igor and I mostly spoke in English. It was what we were used to. Sure, when we got phone calls from our parents or we came home for breaks, we spoke in Russian, but our English was much better due to all the time spent in America. Because of that, sometimes I was pretty sure our parents—rest their souls—regretted sending us away, even if we did have Russian bodyguards around the clock.
Especially me. I’d hadspecialbodyguards to make sure I didn’t go off the rails. My father and the Pakhan always thought my psychopathy was a gift, of sorts, until my father sent me away for school. Then, it became a problem because I had no filter, I was quick to throw my fists, and I had a very big lack of respect for authority figures.
I opened my mouth to give Igor a small lesson on what having class actually meant because my dear friend whose hobby was playing with dead bodies definitely had none. But then, Adrian stepped into the room, and all of my attention zeroed in on him like I was the big bad wolf and he was just a cute little bunny rabbit.
A rabbit I wanted to eat.
“Where’s my phone?” Adrian grumbled as he dropped into the vacant chair across from my desk.
“Hello to you, too, sunshine,” Igor snarked as I opened my desk drawer to pull out his phone, where I’d placed it for safekeeping. Adrian turned his head to look at Igor, rolled his eyes, then looked back at me. I slid his phone across the desk to him, and he grabbed it, typing in his code then scrolling through it, no doubt looking at all the missed calls and texts waiting for him.
“Well, he’s certainly not a morning person,” Igor said, closing his pocketknife and listing to the side just a bit to slide it back into his pocket. He nodded toward the manila folder on my desk. Leaning forward, I grabbed it. “That’s what I’ve found so far.”
Flipping it open, I was greeted with none other than a picture of Inessa’s uncle, Boris Ilyin. I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. Him being the culprit made sense. He’d been too quiet and docile for my tastes since I took over as Pakhan, and he’d never been truly happy that Adrik had married off his niece to an American. When I’d been named Adrik’s successor and then became the Pakhan, he’d gone quiet. Too quiet.
I should have known he’d have something under his fucking sleeve.
“He and Inessa’s mother, Ninel, are apparently having an affair. During their visits to see Inessa, it seems Boris had been using the time there to gather what intel he can. And if he’s able to gather the kind of intel that man you murdered had, he has access to James’s and Adrian’s offices. Might even have access to Darren’s and Jaxon’s, too.”
“Mother fuck,” Adrian growled. I glanced up at him. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a flat line. “How the fuck—” He scrubbed his hands over his face, clearly stressed. I didn’t fucking like it. “When he used to come around, he was never there often enough to know our guard schedules, and Jaxon is fucking anal about never keeping the same schedule day to day. He makes it look like a jumbled mess on purpose, even though it’s organized as fuck.”
“So, you have a rat inside your walls,” Igor said like he was announcing he wanted pancakes for breakfast.
“I have to go home,” Adrian said, jumping up from his chair. “My family?—”
